


Alternate Solutions

by magpiespirit



Series: Partners in Time [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Doing His Level Best To Not Deal With His Trauma Ever, Aziraphale is Obnoxious, Because Crawly is Kinda Mean, Biting, Career Ending Injuries, Cherub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crawly and Aziraphale are So Young, Crawly is Obnoxious, Discorporation (Good Omens), Gen, Pre-Canon, Sleeping Together for Survival, Still Figuring Out How Powers Work, We're Not Friends, they're still enemies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 19:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20801828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpiespirit/pseuds/magpiespirit
Summary: Almost a century after the world is born, Aziraphale discovers a way to deal with the inherent discomfort of stuffing one's ethereal essence into a human vessel, and proves to be the absolute champion of mental gymnastics. Crawly is a pest, as usual, but not one Aziraphale's anxious to be rid of just yet.





	Alternate Solutions

Heaven assigns bodies according to need, as a rule, but sometimes they miss the mark. This body is aesthetically acceptable, and Aziraphale had thought it was what he needed. He prefers having more room to stretch out, even if it’s always going to be uncomfortable to stuff the essence of him into a tiny little flesh suit, but this form isn’t _ soft _ enough. The muscular build makes it stiff and difficult to manage. He knows that he _ always _ looks stiff; even in his last body, Crawly remarked on it. Aziraphale got to discorporate him for his trouble — well, not _ that _ trouble, just the trouble he caused with his attempt to tempt the humans into doing something unreasonable with fire — but discorporating that particular demon is not an enjoyable pastime, no matter what other angels say. When he’s not actively trying to be sinister, Crawly is largely inoffensive, and much more tolerable than his violent replacements. _ They _call up phantom pains, memory given form that he shouldn’t feel but does anyway. Crawly (usually) just annoys him, likely on purpose.

As far as adversaries go, Aziraphale is lucky enough. He’d rather not have one at all, truth be told, but at least the Serpent of Eden has a soft touch.

...Usually, anyway. He doesn’t hurt humans, at least, for obvious reasons.

Aziraphale removes himself from Crawly’s tight embrace, almost wishing he didn’t have to. Their arrangement is nighttime-only, and only on the coldest of nights, and only because they’re both still learning how to wield their ethereal powers in these halfway-human forms. Soon, the world will be warm enough to not need each other anymore; Aziraphale won’t miss the stranger behaviors, like Crawly’s irritating bites to his torso last night that were clearly cries for attention, but the nice thing about Crawly’s serpent-like winding of limbs around Aziraphale is that it’s restrictive. It makes him forget, for just a little while, that _ Earth _is restrictive.

“I didn’t tell you to stop looking at me,” says Crawly with a little pout. It’s unbecoming of celestial beings like them. He’s sure the demon does that to make himself look less threatening, and it often works. 

“It’s nearly dawn,” Aziraphale replies. He won’t address the trick for the same reason they don’t talk about the cold and the tangled limbs and the darkish way that Crawly _ looks at him _sometimes, when the moon is gone and the sky is nothing but stars. It’s not that Aziraphale doesn’t want to ask. It’s that he doesn’t want confirmation, and no demon of the Serpent’s caliber would be kind enough to lie to him. “You know we both have things to do.”

“I told you I’d bite you again if you looked away.”

Aziraphale laughs, but in this form it comes out wrong, more like a huff. Even after almost a century, physical existence is frustrating, difficult to navigate, and he’s tempted to take it out on Crawly, but that would hardly be angelic. Dispatching his enemy is one thing; pettiness is quite another. He sits up and peels Crawly’s limbs off of him firmly, but not violently. “And I told you I’d bite you back to teach you a lesson. Oh, for God’s _ sake-” _He sighs and pushes at Crawly, who seems intent on being as snakelike as possible even in bipedal form. “Get off, you wretched thing.”

The demon’s eyes shine in the pre-morning light and the corners of his mouth lift slightly — amusement, the angel thinks, although he’s still not fully confident in his ability to read expressions — as he asks, “Or what?”

“I’ll discorporate you. See if I won’t.”

The sand shifts below them, and Aziraphale looks for signs that Crawly’s turning back into a snake. As far as he knows, the fiend hasn’t been in that form since Eden, but he can’t be sure. It’s not as though they associate much, except when they get in each other’s way on the job. And on cold nights.

(Someone would have said something by now if there were something wrong with self-preservation, surely. It’s not as though he can cozy up to the humans, and his flesh vessel might be slightly more resistant to the elements than a regular human, but he’s not any more invulnerable than his adversary. This arrangement — as long as it’s only out of sheer necessity, and they’re not friendly, it’s _ sensible. _Any other angel would do the same.)

Aziraphale isn’t accustomed to having needs, and he’s even less accustomed to having wants, but here they are. He needs warmth for practical reasons. He wants it for other reasons. Other angels find him a bit, well, repulsive; he finds it tiresome, honestly, to stand at attention and pretend that the reason nobody will meet his eyes anymore is that he still commands respect. It’s not their fault, he supposes. There’s never been another angel as damaged as he was who didn’t die from their injuries, and they don’t know how to interact with him. And it’s fine, really, since he chose to work as a Principality. _ Sans _flaming sword and with the persistent wound he’d be an ineffective Cherub, and he really is good at this whole protection thing, and he gets on with Overseer Gabriel and Raphael from Accounting well enough, so really it doesn’t matter as long as he’s on Earth. Nobody has to pretend. (And nobody has to carefully not call it a lie.)

Crawly doesn’t lie about where they stand. Things are _ simple _here. He can’t even imagine what a nightmare it would be to have Michael here with him, ready to discorporate from the cold rather than lower themselves to touching physical forms.

“I,” says Crawly, his lips grazing the shell of Aziraphale’s ear, bringing him out of his own thoughts and into the world again, “don’t believe that for a second. Do you know why?”

“I’m sure if I say yes you’ll tell me anyway, so think of me as an empty head,” he snips, once again pushing at the demon. He really ought to be more forceful, but he doesn’t have the heart. Once Crawly’s gone, he’ll be alone in this body that doesn’t belong to him, and he’ll remember how badly he wants to rip his way out of it.

“Last night you blinked. Seven whole times, I counted them. You kept your eyes closed for several seconds each time. And it was always when I touched you here-” Crawly rubs his thumb against the patch of skin just below Aziraphale’s earlobe, and he very deliberately does _ not _ close his eyes. “-so I know you like it. But you wouldn’t have let me do it if you didn’t feel safe, and you wouldn’t tell me things if you didn’t think I would keep your _ sssecrets.” _

Well, that’s just unnecessary. Crawly only forgets his tongue when he’s distressed, so the little lisp was deliberate. Aziraphale, once again, pushes Crawly away, but this time he means it. The sun is rising, and they can’t be together when it does. Neither of them have ever established that — nor have they discussed _ why — _but it’s true all the same. “I don’t tell you secrets, demon, we talk about things you would already know if you’d paid half as much attention in Heaven as you do to me. I, we...Crawly. It’s time to get up.”

“We could _ not,” _ Crawly suggests, like it’s practical, like it’s feasible, like it’s rational. It isn’t. And Aziraphale has wants, but he doesn’t want to just sit here and do...whatever it is they’re doing. Consorting. “The humans are _ boring, _Aziraphale. Hell is boring too, and Heaven didn’t want me, and they don’t want you either, else you’d be there, wouldn’t you? We could hide from the sun, if we wanted.”

“Hide from — what _ are _ you talking about?” Aziraphale watches Crawly out of the corner of his eye. Something about that sounds wrong, sounds _ dangerous. _What is this about the sun? What does Crawly know? “I don’t have anything to hide. Do you?”

“Course not,” Crawly scoffs, digging his nails into Aziraphale’s shoulder. _ Ow. _ “It’s nothing. It’s whatever. I’m just doing my job. You’re the one who’s looking for trouble. Oh, and _ angel?” _

Aziraphale knows better than to think that’s anything other than a pejorative. “Yes?”

Crawly sinks his teeth into the angel’s other shoulder hard enough to bruise, then straightens and races off toward the human encampment. Gleefully, he calls over his shoulder, “Too slow! You can’t catch me!”

Not in this body, he can’t. One would think he’d be faster in a more muscular incorporation, but it’s just too tight to get anything done. Grumbling, he massages the bite mark, and— oh!

_ It helps. _

He watches the sun rise over the encampment and ponders this development. Pressing on any of the marks Crawly left on him hurts, but it also relieves pressure on his intangible essence somehow, as if the pain is a release valve. Interesting. This is useful information. Aziraphale doesn’t want to associate pain with Heaven. That’s what demons do, and it’s a dangerous mindset to have. But in short bursts, it might help him adjust to this new form until he breaks it in and it’s _ his. _And until then…

Crawly is clever, but his great sin was pride. He fell for his hubris, anyone with functioning eyes could see that. He won’t notice if Aziraphale..._inspires _him to leave another bite mark next time it’s too cold to sleep alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Got about 20,000 words of a fic written that was directly inspired by this idea. Not certain I want to finish or publish it, since it's a bit of a creepy disaster, but this one is reasonably appropriate.


End file.
